


An Untimely Sprain

by fiveainley_ohmy



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Classic Who Secret Santa, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Slash if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 19:23:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5510081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveainley_ohmy/pseuds/fiveainley_ohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Brigadier gets hurt in the middle of an alien incursion and the Doctor, well...doctors him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Untimely Sprain

**Author's Note:**

> For badassbrigadear for the Classic Who Secret Santa. I'm sorry this took so long, I've been having Internet issues. Anyway, hope you like it. Seasons greetings. :)

"Steady on, old chap, steady on." The Doctor helped the limping Brigadier into his office, one of the Doctor's arms wrapped around his back, the Brig's arm slung over the Doctor's shoulder.

"Doctor, please, it was just a twist of the ankle, I'm hardly an invalid," the Brigadier blustered, giving the Time Lord one of his signature eye rolls.

"I seriously doubt that, old man. Now just sit down there...there we go," said the Doctor, carefully assisting the Brigadier into a reclining armchair.

"Where did you get this from?" the Brigadier asked, twisting around to look at the armchair he was sitting in as the Doctor turned to fetch the first aid kit he kept behind the lab station. "This is isn't UNIT issued."

"Calm down, my dear Brigadier, it was just an item I dragged out of the TARDIS. Like to have something cushy to sit in while I'm taking my afternoon tea with Jo." The Doctor came back over with the kit. "Brace yourself."

The Brigadier huffed in pain as the Doctor slowly raised the leg rest on the chair to prop up his injured ankle. "Oh come now, it can't hurt that much," chided the Doctor, smiling playfully.

The Brigadier glared at him. "You know, Doctor, just because you took your title from a physician doesn't mean you're more qualified to tend to me than Dr. Sullivan."

"Yes, but will Dr. Sullivan tell you funny jokes? For instance, did you hear the one about the Venusian rabbi and the-"

"Actually, I think I'll skip the brevity," said the Brigadier, holding up his hand to stop the Doctor. "Just the first aid, if you please."

The Doctor harrumphed and rolled up the Brigadier's pants leg, then carefully removed his military issue boot and brown sock. "Oh dear." The Doctor tsked.

"What? What is it?" the Brigadier said, trying to sit forward. "I won't need a shot, will I?" Childhood memories of flinching away from needles flashed before the Brigadier's eyes, and he suppressed a shudder.

"Hardly," laughed the Doctor. "Just a sprain. Albeit a nasty one at that. You'll be limping for at least two weeks, I'll reckon."

"Oh no," groaned the Brigadier, already imagining all the struggling around this was going to entail, not to mention all the insufferable jokes from Yates and Benton.

"Keep buggering on, old chap, as my good friend Winston Churchill used to say," said the Doctor. "This calls for ice. Ice, compression, and most importantly, rest."

"Nonsense, I've got to get back to the fight. There's still hoards of Weevils out there-"

"Nothing Captain Yates and Sergeant Benton can't handle," the Doctor soothed, gently pushing him back into the chair.

"But The Master's still on the loose-"

"Believe me, I can handle him," said the Doctor. "Of all his schemes, this is the most shoddily conjured to date. Weevils are bothersome and chaotic, but fairly harmless. We'll round them up soon enough, and incarcerate the Master as well."

"But you might need help," the Brigadier protested.

"You can't go out there on this ankle, you'll injure yourself even further. Don't be a fool, man." The Doctor went to the refrigerator across the room and pulled an ice tray out of the freezer. He dumped the ice in a plastic baggie and wrapped it in a dish towel, as a homemade ice pack. "We need you around here, hale and hearty. The only way you'll be able to get back that way is if you allow yourself to recover from this." The Doctor gingerly placed the ice pack on the Brigadier's swelling ankle, and the soldier sucked in breath through his teeth at the sharp coldness on his blood-flushed skin.

"But...but-"

"Believe me, Lethbridge Stewart, you'll be back on your feet in no time. Trust me, I'm a Doctor." The Time Lord winked.

The Brigadier sighed. "Alright, Doctor, you win. But swear you'll contact me if anything goes wrong. You will, won't you?"

"Yes, yes, of course," said the Doctor patronizingly, patting the man on the shoulder. "Well, I'd better get back there. Unless there's something else you need?"

"No, no, you'd better go...well."

The Doctor paused, one foot out the door. "Yes? What is it?"

"Could I have a cup of tea before you go?"

The Doctor smiled and nodded. "Of course. In fact, I think I'll have one too."


End file.
